


The Arrangement

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: KINK: BDSM, KINK: bondage, M/M, kink: masochism, kink: sadism, verse: idw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> It's certainly not love.  Not really even lust.  But something they both need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** IDW  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Devcon/Lockdown  
>  **Warning:** BDSM, specifically Bondage, Masochism, Sadism, Sticky  
>  **Notes:** I don’t know either of these characters terribly well, but I hope I did an ok job. A prompt from blind_foxx - _IDW Lockdown/Devcon-control. BDSM sticky smut(utter CRACK)_

Every now and then, Lockdown just needed to hurt. There were plenty of Autobots, even Decepticons, that would happily oblige him, but Lockdown really _did_ want to come through it alive.

That’s where Devcon came in. His fellow bounty hunter, but from the other side of the game. Devcon hated him. In fact, Lockdown was pretty sure Devcon hated just about everyone, but that was ok.

In the belly of Devcon’s ship, chains holding Lockdown in place in the center of the room, he was safe from everything except the biting sting of Devcon’s electro-whip. And Devcon needed this too, this outlet to cause pain, hear screaming and begging, to hold another’s fate in his hands. Lockdown got it, because he was the exact opposite. Make him scream. Make him cry like a broken sparkling. Make him beg. He wanted it. Needed it.

And Devcon did.

The whip fell across the backs of Lockdown’s thighs, one of cords sweeping between his sprawled legs, charge snapping against his bared array. Lockdown screamed, entire frame shaking.

Devcon was always silent. He stalked around Lockdown, looking for the best angle, and then struck. Lockdown screamed again, tears pouring down his face. Devcon’s next blow wrapped around his hip, charge biting at his array. The cords brushed over his spike as it was pulled away.

“Please! _Please_! I need-“ Lockdown cut off on a static-laced screech.

The whip came fast and furious. His thighs, his hips, his aft, and then… Right across his array.

Lockdown convulsed in overload, beyond screaming, beyond sound as all the pain flashed to pleasure, to unadulterated euphoria. He thrashed in his chains, ripped apart by the release that was far more than just physical.

He woke wrapped in warm arms that held him securely. They were lying on a berth. Not Devcon’s, but one in a room beside their playroom. He wasn’t quite ready to move yet, and Devcon never rushed him. This was still safe, and Lockdown soaked up the sense of security, of _knowing_ he could just relax for a few more minutes before he had to return to the real world where not watching one’s back for even an instant would get one killed.

Lockdown shifted, and Devcon’s arms loosened. He tipped his helm back to look up at the other bounty hunter. “Can put me on my knees next time,” Lockdown said.

Devcon nodded. “Whip or cane?”

“Oh, the whip.” He chuckled, feeling a little residual heat tickle over his sensornet. “You wield it like a demon. Fraggin’ hot.”

Devcon’s lips twitched into his version of a smile. There and gone again in an instant. “Blindfolded or not?”

Lockdown had to think about that. Sometimes seeing it coming was worse-better than not. “Blindfold I think. Wanna catch me, take me prisoner?” He grinned.

“All right.”

Lockdown rolled back and stretched, groaning as he felt the stiffness that’d settled in already. “Great. I’ll transmit coordinates. Do the usual.”

“Agreed.” Devcon stood up, optics keen on Lockdown’s frame.

He moved slow, letting Devcon get a good look at the scorch marks and dents he’d caused as they walked to the airlock. “See ya then,” he said, and left.

That leaving was always the hardest part. Taking back all the responsibility and stress. It sucked slag to be frank about it. Lockdown settled in his pilot’s chair, and did a system’s check on his ship, taking his time, optics glancing now and again out the viewport to Devcon’s ship. It hung there in space, waiting for him to take that final step away.

Lockdown would never say it, had trouble even acknowledging it for himself, but he was grateful that Devcon stayed. Sometimes he toyed with the idea of going right back, begging to be Devcon’s fulltime plaything, but then reality asserted itself, and he engaged his engines. Just like now.

With a smirk and final look, Lockdown left. They’d have more playtime in a few weeks. And he got to be the runner for a change. He couldn’t wait.


End file.
